


Butterscotch Hopscotch

by PreachingtotheQuire



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Did I Mention Fluff, Fluff, Gen, More Fluff, he looks... healthy, hopscotch is more fun with John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 12:12:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15796296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PreachingtotheQuire/pseuds/PreachingtotheQuire
Summary: Birthday fic for Zaniida - games for John!





	Butterscotch Hopscotch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zaniida](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaniida/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Look, John, Just Play Along](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15690810) by [Zaniida](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaniida/pseuds/Zaniida). 
  * Inspired by [Look, John, Just Play Along](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15690810) by [Zaniida](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaniida/pseuds/Zaniida). 



Butterscotch Hopscotch

For Zaniida’s 2018 Birthday  
Something about games, something about John and games, something about John, games, and hopscotch!  
S04E04

The words are mine, the worlds are not.

John Reese looked around him, deliberating. This wasn't such a great part of town, but the blacktop here was freshly paved, the playground equipment looked bright. Some kids were playing handball against the side of the nearest classroom, and it had the bright red brick of new construction. He shrugged mentally. Bond or grant or philanthropy, the kids were lucky to have this good of a school.

There was a small group of girls about Tracie's age talking and giggling. He walked up to them, knowing it was only a matter of time before the schoolyard monitors spotted him, a tall white man wandering around an elementary school. That would be a hard one to explain.

“Excuse me, have any of you seen Tracie Booker today?” John asked with his best smile.

The tallest girl snorted and tossed her braids. “Let's go, girls.”

John stepped forward, raising his hand. “Wait. Um, all right, I'll play you for it. Hopscotch.” He pointed to the bright yellow outlines, stark against the blacktop.

“Don't go hurting yourself, old man. Want us to drop a dime? It's gonna cost ya,” replied the girl, but all three girls turned back to look at him.

“Don't think I can do it? Which one of you is the best?”

The middle girl giggled and pointed to the smallest. “She's it. Fastest one in the school.” The smaller girl looked startled, then narrowed her eyes at John.

“Fastest, huh?” he said. “If I match her, you going to tell me where Tracie is?”

All three girls looked at each other. “Sure,” said the tallest one, “If you can go as fast as her, we'll tell you.”

“Just so I know who I’m playing against, what’re your names?” John asked.

“Jayla,” said the tallest, then pointed to the middle girl and the smallest. “Akaia, Dawn.”

John smiled. “All right, Dawn, give me your best shot.”

The three went in to a tight huddle, Akaia pulling something out of her pocket. Almost immediately they broke up, Dawn holding a cellophane wrapped piece of butterscotch candy. She tossed it in the air, then grabbed it without looking as it fell and smiled confidently at John.  
Now this could be interesting, John thought. Small, lightweight, and she’s probably spent a lot of hours on this game.

“Okay,” he said confidently, “Show it.” The girl went to the bottom of the board, and tossed her butterscotch. It landed on the 7.  
Jayla clapped her hands and yelled, “Clock!” while Akaia crouched down on the opposite side of the board, to watch for touched lines.  
Some of the other kids looked over to see what was happening. Dawn crouched down, and Jayla pointed to a large clock at the top of the brick wall.

“Three! Two! One! Go!” she yelled, and the second hand clicked to the quarter-hour mark.

Dawn launched herself at the board, staying on her toes and bouncing like the keys on a fast-moving typewriter. She skipped over the seven, touched down at the ten, and reversed directions so fast john could hear the clack of the beads in her hair as she swung around.  
Barely pausing, she scooped up the butterscotch and rocketed down the rest of the board. As soon as she crossed the line Jayla yelled, “Time! Five and a half seconds. Match that, old man!” Akaia looked up from her position and smiled; if Dawn had touched any of the lines, she wasn’t telling.

John looked out over the growing crowd of kids. Still no adult in sight. He held out his hand for the butterscotch, then crouched down both to stretch out his legs a little and tuck his jacket into the back of his waistband, covering the SIG-Sauer. He smiled slightly, then flipped up the butterscotch with his thumb. It hit the three then landed on the seven, causing the crowd of kids to murmur. He stood up, rotated each ankle, and nodded at the little timekeeper.

Jayla rolled her eyes at him, confident that he would lose. “Three! Two! One! Go!” she yelled, pointing at the clock, kids catcalling in the background and waving their hands in the air.

John hit the board as if it were a combination of boot camp tire runs, tripwire skips, and a Fred Astaire tapdance combo. He held his arms in close for the turn on the ten, then spread them out on eight for a quick dip to catch the butterscotch and did the rest practically en pointe. Finch will be horrified when he sees what happened to my shoes, John thought as he made it over the last line.

“Time! Just over 5 Seconds. Akaia?” said Jayla.

“He touched the sidelines of the eight on the way up. No other lines,” she said.

Jayla looked disappointed. “Okay, I'm calling a tie.” Her little shoulders slumped.

There were cries of “No!” and “Not cool!” and “He's too big! It's not fair! Jayla!” and “Come on!” from the crowd. It looked like every kid in the school was gathered around the hopscotch board now, and there were even some hanging from the jungle gym high above the others. John looked out over the sea of young faces. They clearly didn't think that an adult beating a little kid in a playground game was at all fair.

“All right,” said John, “A tie is clear, so you'll tell me where Tracie is.” The whole crowd moaned in disapproval.

John settled back on one leg, and tapped his finger on his lips as if he were thinking. “But, I'll do it again, just to make it fair, and I’ll do it a little different. Alright, stay quiet and watch...” He crouched down again, flipping the butterscotch in the air to distract the kids while he tucked his coat more carefully around his SIG. This time he cocked his head and used the butterscotch like a miniature skipping stone, touching down on one and five, landing on seven. There were some murmurs of approval, but many more hoots of derision.

John stood up, took a step back, and turned around to face away from the board. The crowd of kids suddenly quieted, and he heard one say, “What the hell, man!”

“Language, Alton!” John heard called from across the playground. He looked over his shoulder and saw one of the playground monitors with her arms folded over her chest, watching him with a small smile. He nodded to her, then faced away from the board again. Knowing every eye was on him, John shook out his hands, then slowly raised his arms up over his head. He closed his eyes and thought, I sure hope this works. It's been years since I've done this kind of thing.

He took a deep breath, and as he exhaled he bent over backward like a Chinese acrobat, touching down with one hand in the first square, and letting his legs float up into the air one at a time.

He put his other hand down on the number two, and lifted his hand off the first square, twisting slowly, letting his legs bend at the knee. Slowly he split his legs in the air and then touched down one foot and then the other into the third and fourth parallel squares. Looking around at the crowd, he could see all of their faces turned up towards him, mouths agape, absolutely silent.

He smiled to himself, and in a display of showmanship repeated the movements but for one square, starting facing forward. John ended up standing on the sixth square, parallel to the seventh, where the butterscotch candy lay. Putting out both arms and pointing his free foot down at a 45 degree angle, he suddenly pulled his arms in and executed a perfect triple turn, landing on his opposite foot in the eighth square, facing forward. Quickly he hopped through the ninth, then hopped again and twisted in the air, landing in the tenth square, facing away from the board now behind him.

Not wanting to lose the attention of his young audience he started backflipping his way over the squares. Bracing his hands in the eighth and sixth squares, he did an upsidedown pushup, barely managing to pick up the butterscotch with his teeth from the seventh square. He felt himself losing his balance there, but saved it with an extremely compact cartwheel through the last five squares. Not the best dismount, he thought as he landed on his starting point, but it could have been much worse. A disaster even.

He threw up his arms, and the kids hooted and hollered, jumping up and down and crowding around him. He started turning in a circle, keeping the kids from encountering the outline of his SIG. Even the playground monitor was smiling at the display. Quickly he leaned over toward Jayla.

“Where’s Tracie?” he asked over the noise.

A few moments later he was striding away from the school. Tapping his earpiece he said, “Good news, Finch, I got a lead. Bad news, I need some new shoes and several ice packs.”

Harold snorted over the line. “Just so you’re aware, I’m keeping the recordings of your Olympian hopscotch performance for future showings. With popcorn. Three camera views, and I’m sure that in my down time I can turn it into quite the VR performance.”

John rolled his eyes. “Very funny, Finch. Try it, and I will splice in a voiceover of you getting stoned in Jordan Hester’s apartment.” He listened a moment, but there was nothing but silence over the line.

John kept walking and smiled to himself while unwrapping his somewhat dinged-up piece of butterscotch candy. He tossed it in the air and caught it in his mouth, savoring the sweet taste of victory.


End file.
